Second Time
by Brievel
Summary: Darth Vader finds a five-year-old Luke Skywalker wandering the dunes of Tatooine, lost, and realizes the child is his son. What is he to do with the boy?
1. His Father's Son

**This was originally posted as a section in my one-shot AU series, Toss of the Coin. Raikuge practiced her puppy eyes on me for a continuation, though, seconded by many of my other readers, so what's a girl to do? I gave in. Following chapters will be up as written (or evenly spaced out, depending.)  
**

* * *

Ben Kenobi's speeder screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust even larger than usual. He sprang out, holding a piece of his robe over his face but otherwise ignoring the pervading sand as he fled into the house. "Owen! Beru!" He rarely raised his voice, even more rarely panicked. He could think of few reasons Lord Darth Vader would be coming to Tatooine, and such a rare event might well deserve a smidgen of alarm. " _Owen Lars!_ "

"What is it, Kenobi?" demanded the moisture farmer, stepping into the courtyard.

"Vader," Obi-Wan said succinctly. "Get Luke."

Beru had appeared in the doorway, paling at the news. Now she turned and hurried down the hallway, calling. "Lu-uke! Luke?" Moments later, she reappeared, grey-faced. "He's gone."

* * *

Anakin had detested riding on animals, preferring speeders. Lord Darth Vader had retained this trait, but no speeders suitable for his purpose had been available, so he and his entire battalion were mounted on a motley mixture of dewbacks, eopies, and a handful of banthas. He was reflecting sourly on perhaps having to execute the lot of them once this whole raid was over, so the image of his indignity didn't spread, and how unsuitable a black suit of armor was to the twin suns of Tatooine, and how very much he hated this planet. The sooner they accomplished their purpose and left, the better.

"Sir!" came a voice from behind him. "A life form at ten-o'clock! Appears to be a human child..." the stormtrooper finished, tones distinctly puzzled under the dehumanizing helmet.

"Not our problem," came the disinterested reply from the captain of the troopers, but Darth Vader abruptly halted his deplorable beast and held up a hand. He felt the ripples of surprise from behind him as the troopers hastily reigned in their own mounts. Dismounting, Darth Vader approached the child, who blazed like a beacon in the Force. He was small, no more than five years old, tow-headed and blue-eyed - a son of the desert. He clutched a tiny model of a T-16 to his chest, his lip trembling, but he bravely held back tears as he wandered over the dune. He looked up in surprise as the monstrously tall, black-clad figure approached him.

"Are you a droid?" the child asked, and beneath his mask, Darth Vader blinked in surprise.

"No," he rumbled in response after a few seconds' pause. "I am a cyborg."

The little boy screwed up his face in concentration. "That means you have mechanical parts, doesn't it?" he said, although it was as much to himself as Vader. "Grampa Cliegg had prophetic legs. He wasn't my real Grampa, of course - it's kinda complicutted. I'm Luke Skywalker, what's your name?"

"Skywalker?" Vader echoed in disbelief. "Cliegg Lars?"

"Yes!" the child confirmed joyfully. "I live with my Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru," he added, gesturing vaguely behind him. "Uncle Owen's kinda stern, but Aunt Beru's nice, I know she loves me. But I'm lost," he finished, lip trembling again.

"That you are," Vader agreed dryly, rethinking his original plan of annihilating anyone even remotely connected to Anakin Skywalker, personified, in this case, by Owen and Beru Lars. "We shall take you back - but why don't you live with your parents?"

A wash of sadness swept over him. "They're dead," little Luke murmured, scuffing the sand with one foot. "They died when I was born." He sounded lost, forlorn, and Darth Vader knew for a fact that while his mother might be dead, his father was not.

"Come," he said, hesitating a moment before awkwardly putting out a hand to the child. "We'll take you home." As he led his son - for now the Dark Lord was convinced it was he - back to the dewback, he reflected that he would indeed have to eliminate the entire battalion for the sake of his reputation.

* * *

"Kenobi," Darth Vader rumbled menacingly as he and his men approached the homestead. The Larses and his former Master were all standing outside, and he was darkly amused by the stark horror on each of their faces. He got no further, interrupted by Luke.

"Aunt Beru!" the boy shrieked joyfully, sliding from his perch in front of Vader and running over to his aunt. She knelt in the sand to clutch him close, shaking violently, but he tugged her towards the dewback. "Come meet Lord Vader!" Luke urged, almost dancing. "He found me in the desert and saved me! He's really nice!" So excited was young Skywalker that he didn't notice the taut silence of the adults, or the funny expressions on his uncle's face or that of the man beside him. He didn't even notice everyone's flattened disbelief in the Force. It would've been fair to say that every adult present had no idea how to react to this last statement.

Darth Vader dismounted. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lars," he said perfunctorily, and skewered Obi-Wan with his gaze. "Kenobi! You have three minutes to explain _this_." He waved a hand at Luke, who took offense.

"I don't even know who he is!" the boy objected, and everyone looked at him. "Who is he, Uncle Owen?"

"Perhaps, we should go inside," Beru suggested timidly, hoping possibly in vain to avoid bloodshed but willing to work for it, despite its low odds.

Three pointed gazes from the men around her pinned on the stormtroopers, still waiting patiently atop their various transports, and one adoring gaze glued itself to her face. "Let's go inside," Luke echoed.

"I wish to speak to Kenobi, _alone_ ," Vader said menacingly. "Out here."

"Oh." Luke squinted at the stormtroopers. "Then they'll all have to come inside." He hurtled forward and gave an extremely startled Lord Vader a hug around the knees (as high as the little boy could reach) before the diminutive juggernaut sped for the stairway down into the house, beckoning to the troopers and his aunt. "Come on! But don't track in sand!"

Owen hung back outside, but a pointed glower from Vader and a subtle nod from Ol' Ben sent him inside after his wife and step-nephew. Vader rounded on the Jedi. "He is my son!" he thundered, furious! "What is he doing here? Why was he not brought to me? How did he survive?"

"Yes, being protected, you killed younglings and the Empire kills sensitives, and his mother lived long enough to give birth," Obi-Wan said crisply. "I knew that if he were given over to the Sith, he would be twisted and destroyed - if not killed outright." He gave his former apprentice a keen glance. "Kill me now if you will," he said quietly. "But think twice about destroying your son."

"What are you doing so close to him?" Vader asked suspiciously. "Indoctrinating him with your Jedi lies?" He wasn't sure whether he'd be angrier about the boy being taught or not.

Obi-Wan gave him a haughtily disappointed look. "No," he returned, his tone conveying 'you moron.' "Protecting him."

Force, how he hated being indebted to Kenobi. He pointed. "Go." Wisely, the Jedi left, and Darth Vader stalked down the stairs into the homestead. Unprepared for the low ceilings, he bumped his head on the doorjamb as he entered the room where everyone was gathered. Not that it mattered much, his reputation was a shambles already anyway. The stormtroopers were all outwardly silent, standing around in bored positions - doubtless they were busily gossiping on their handy helmet comms. Owen was standing in the kitchen, watching and listening as Beru, sitting at the table with Luke, scolded the boy for wandering off. Luke was drooping, but a mere second after Vader had entered the room, he perked up bright as the suns overhead and slid off his chair, running to the Dark Lord.

Beru blanched, but bravely stood. "Luke, don't annoy Lord Vader," she said tremulously, and the boy turned a beaming face upwards.

"I won't," Luke replied, self-assured and still clinging. "He's nice."

Vader sighed. This was going to take some work.


	2. Sonrise

**Since it is Father's Day (I discovered earlier,) I decided to go ahead and publish the next chapter. =)**

* * *

Vader's hatred of Kenobi had not abated by any significant amount, but he could at least grudgingly acknowledge that the annoying old Jedi had done a good job of protecting Luke and the Lars. That did not mean that Vader had to appreciate his former Master's presence around Skywalker's son.

Speaking of said son...it had taken about an hour to explain to Luke that Darth Vader was his father, and that his aunt and uncle had not realized his father was still alive, and that Vader had formerly gone by a different name which was the reason they hadn't known he was alive. The entire conversation had been punctuated with Luke's "why?"s. He had gazed at them all in turn, clinging to his T16 and considering everything they said, before re-christening Lord Vader yet again. It was not a name Vader had ever expected to answer to, and it completely incinerated every last vestige of his dignity, but he found that he did not terribly mind being called 'Daddy.' At least the troopers and Lars had had enough sense not to laugh - indeed, Beru had look a little terrified when Luke, apparently deciding to accept their explanation, lit up like noon, threw himself on Vader, and ecstatically announced that he had a daddy.

Vader had not known quite what to do, but it had not mattered much, as Luke then sat up straight and solemnly explained that he was "still too little to go up there," with a wave at the ceiling, but that when he got older, he'd come "piloting!" with his father, and until then his "Daddy" would just have to visit him sometimes. Vader was less than happy about leaving his precious son behind, but remembered with a pang of first grief, then regret, then annoyance at the most un-Sithly emotions, his own pain at leaving his mother as a young child and acknowledged to himself that Luke should probably stay with Beru yet awhile.

The lady of the house set out dinner, somehow managing enough even for the platoon of troops. Luke, curious as to why his father wasn't eating with them, asked for the mask to come off. Vader regretfully replied that it couldn't come off, or he'd die. After several moments' horror and sympathy, Luke had pulled himself together and firmly declared that one day, he'd heal his father so he could see his face. Vader could not bring himself to hurt his son further by informing him his father could not be healed.

When the Imperial troop went to depart a little before sunset, Vader promised to visit often and comm oftener before heading for the door. Luke, realizing that his just-found father intended to leave so soon, attached his small self to both Vader's legs and refused to let go until tucked into bed and told a story. Vader, unable to move without injuring his son and still in awe and delight over the discovery of the child, felt only the vaguest temptation of temper, and agreed to do as requested of him.

It must've been quite a sight, had anyone else been in the room to see it, for the great and mighty, terrible and terrifying, Dark Lord of the Sith to be cramped into a seat too small for him beside the bed of a very young boy, who gazed expectantly up at the insectoid black mask without the slightest shred of fear. Vader fumbled a moment for a story appropriate to tell a child, before settling - almost instinctively - on one of his tamer missions with Obi-Wan. As he spoke, shreds of fond memory returned to him, and he could not keep his tone its flat neutral. Luke himself sat up in bed, arms around his knees, to listen better until a firm pressure from his father pushed him back down.

Though it was clearly a struggle, Luke remained awake all through the story, until the resolution of the problem was reached. By the end of the Council report, he was fast asleep, and Anakin smiled humorously. He too had had little regard for the Council. Rising, he bent over young Skywalker, brushing the blonde hair back from the angelic little face, secretly longing to bestow a kiss on the small forehead. "I will see you soon, son," he murmured as low as he could. Slipping out the room, he closed the door behind him and returned to the living room. The stormtroopers were already outside, mounted on their various beasts, and Vader paused a moment to speak to the Lars. "Keep him well," he said abruptly.

"We will," Beru answered softly. "We love him, too, you know..."

A jerky downwards nod was the Dark Lord's answer. He did not see how anyone short of Palpatine himself could avoid loving Luke. "I will be back again to see him," he rumbled. "And keep Kenobi away from him!"

"Will do," Owen replied fervently - clearly, he was no fan of Kenobi, either.

After a moment's awkward, tense silence, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, and doting father, strode from the small dwelling, black heart heavy.

* * *

 **One more installment after this.**


	3. Inbound Flight

**Not the final installment yet for awhile, Rex, sorry. xD Leia will appear in awhile, mockingbird, the second question will be answered in the next section, and the last question will be answered ere the end.**

 **I've only got one more backlogged section, though, so don't expect any more for a little while. Also, Evan, Percy, and Cissy are talking to me again (yay!) after a months-long absence. ( -_- ) So I'll be working on my original stories, too.**

* * *

"Congratulations, sir." Darth Vader looked sharply at the trooper sitting across from him in the shuttle. Doubtless, his pensive mood had not escaped their notice, and it was not at all difficult to deduce that the innocent child on the planet below them was the cause, in some way, shape, or form. The man, seeing his commander's look, added, "He's an adorable boy."

"He is," Vader rumbled after a pause, slightly surprised and not altogether pleased that the trooper was foolish enough to bring it up. Nor did the trend stop with the first man.

Farther down the line, another trooper turned his head towards the conversation, inquiring, "Will he ever come to the ship?"

"I do not know," Vader replied, the Force washing over him strangely, giving him little nudges in directions he'd long forsworn. One did not trust, when one was a Sith, but he could almost hear a soft voice whispering to him to take a chance, to give these men an opportunity to prove themselves worthy of his trust. "I do not want the Emperor to hear of his existence, he would perceived the child as a potential threat," he added cautiously.

The man across from him nodded carelessly, the normal action appearing odd with the helmet and full armor. "He wouldn't hear it from us, sir," the trooper replied easily. The others echoed the sentiment, and somehow, Vader knew that he wouldn't. He would not necessarily have to silence his entire squad, they were quietening themselves. Perhaps he could even count on them to help him see Luke more often...


	4. Twin Sun Noon

**Ah, yeah, sorry about that. I said in Chapter Two that there'd only be one more section, well, my (borrowed) characters objected, so there will be at least two more, possibly three, after this section.**

* * *

As promised, Luke Skywalker took to the skies with his father at age sixteen. Vader provided help to the Lars in recompense for taking the boy, and whisked his son off to the Executor. Though he would never give his old Master the satisfaction of letting him know, Vader had thought long and hard about the corruption of his son. He would be even less enthusiastic about Kenobi knowing that Vader had realized that he had little desire to turn Skywalker Dark. So Luke's training in politics, piloting, mathematics, science, history, (the true history of the galaxy, not Palpatine's version, twisted beyond recognition,) grammar, penmanship, (when Luke complained about this last one, Vader pointed out unanswerably that not even his mechanized eyeplates could figure out Luke's scrawl,) and multiple other subjects for which the young farmboy had no use. His one true love was flying, and if his father incorporated that largely into the curriculum, who was about to question him.

Luke himself was quite popular, socializing easily with the other pilots, the stormtroopers, and the junior officers. Vader found himself refraining more and more often from severely punishing incompetence, not enjoying the idea of another month-long depression from his son when he inadvertently disposed of one of Luke's close friends. Luke had not said much of anything, only replying, rather subdued, with the officer's name and saying that they were friends when his father irritably inquired into why Luke was so down. Yet it was this same lack of accusation or overt reproach that had Vader so mellowed. He did not desire to cause his son grief.

One of his first orders of business was teaching Luke to shield. The boy was in no way unaware about what would happen to him, should Palpatine find out about his existence. With no desire to either become a Sith or be tortuously killed, Luke had applied himself to learning this skill with a diligence equaled only by that he showed in learning to fly or mechanical craftsmanship. Vader found himself caring less and less about the Empire, only desiring to spend time with his son, until he was ready to tell the whole lot of them to go to whichever Corellian hell they preferred.

His own response to the Rebel alliance was lackadaisical at best, though he always showed up wherever he was supposed to be. When the lovely young Princess Leia was captured, though he searched her mind, he did not care to torture her. None on the Death Star were Force-sensitive enough to detect his heavy disapproval at the destruction of Alderaan, but his hold was gentle as he supported the grief-stricken princess. When the greaseblob of a freighter was tractored in, accompanied by a most unwelcome presence, Vader informed his officers that Obi-Wan Kenobi was aboard and wandered off, theoretically to find him. Contacting his son in the Force, he instructed the young man to remove the Princess from her cell and bribe whatever scruffy captain piloted the scruffy ship to take her to the Rebel Alliance.

Dismally, the firebrand princess looked up as the door opened to admit a slim, blonde man who appeared to be around her own age. A crease appeared between her brows, and she queried, "Who are you?"

He gave her a winning smile. "My name is Luke Skywalker, I'm here to escort you to safety. Come on, we don't have long." He led her out, along the corridors, then pulled her quickly back into an alcove, moments before a patrol passed by. When she started to move out, he pulled her back again, eyes distant. "Wait," he whispered. Seconds later, a second patrol passed, one that would surely have caught them had they stepped out into the open.

"Are you a Jedi?" she whispered, flabbergasted.

"No," he replied absently, eyes still distant. "My father wouldn't allow it, though he's given me some rudimentary Force training."

Leia knew of only one Force-wielder out and about in the galaxy. "I wasn't aware that Darth Vader had a son," she said faintly.

Luke pulled himself back to the present and looked at her with sheepish amusement. "It's not something we publish widely," he admitted. "Father seems to think the Emperor would object."

"He won't hear it from me," Leia promised wryly.

"Thank you, Princess." The sincerity in his voice warmed her, then he pulled her out and quickly along the durasteel hall. His Force sense led them unerringly to the well-disguised intruder accompanied by the completely undisguised Wookiee. "Halt," he requested. "What is your name?"

"CT-5454," the man rattled off.

Luke did not have time to play games. "Very well, Ceetee-five-four-five-four," he replied, and tugged Leia closer. "Escort the Princess to the captured freighter, instruct the captain to take her to the Rebel Alliance, and inform him that he will be well rewarded for his efforts." Turning to the lady, he bowed. "Princess."

She gave him a warm smile, despite the sadness in her eyes. "Thank you, Luke."

"You're welcome, your highness," he responded, eyes aglow, then she and 'CT-5454' set off down the corridor, while Luke turned and drifted aimlessly in the opposite direction.


	5. Weeping May Endure for a Night

Rumor had it that Lord Vader had been terribly, terribly injured during the battle of Hoth, a lucky strike by a lone Rebel sniper destroying the controls of his suit. He retreated to one of his private residences, taking a contingent of stormtroopers with him and tasking his new favorite Admiral with hunting down the Princess Leia - alive only. No one noticed, when His Lordship departed, that one of the stormtroopers flanking him was just a little shorter than his counterparts. All the crew remaining couldn't help feeling a little wistful at the departure of their competent commander, and the mysterious Luke vanished at the same time, leaving some wondering if he wasn't a projection, after all.

At Vader's private holdings, a small, dusty, battered ship already rested. Marching perfectly in tandem, the troops best trusted by Vader followed he and his son, helmet now off, as the Sith proudly showed off his mansion to the awe-struck Luke. A droid housekeeper approached them before too long, bowing and informing them that an old Jedi Master had arrived.

Luke gave his father a knowing look and small smile, easily detecting the reluctance and dislike emanating from his father. "It's for your own good," he pointed out, and Vader gave him a Look.

"Is this for all the times your aunt called me up to have me make you take whatever medicines you needed?" he rumbled.

"Well, maybe the classic line," Luke admitted, then sobered. "But the operation is because you're my father, and I love you, and I want to see you without all this." He indicated the black mask and suit.

Vader sighed, a sound few had ever heard. "You are the only reason I would ever again willingly suffer Kenobi," he told his son.

Luke reached down, squeezing the black-gloved hand. "Thank you, Father," he said simply.

* * *

A fierce firefight had erupted the moment Han Solo had seen the grey-clad Admiral standing at the head of the table. Piett had barely dived under the sumptuous banquet in time to save himself, and his stormtroopers had opened fire less than a second later. The Wookiee and smuggler were stanging good shots - as attested by the number of white-armored bodies surrounding the table - and the Princess herself was not to be discounted. The astromech droid was almost the scariest, though, as one oil spill, one smoke screen, and several bolts of electricity could testify. Cursing softly to himself, Piett pulled himself to his feet and gave chase, calling for his men to help him. The Wookiee, apparently playing rearguard, turned and felled three more soldiers before a shot from the Admiral himself felled the Princess. Her companions screeched to a halt and a dozen blue blasts erupted, surrounding the quarries in blue electricity before they fell like so many logs. Only the torn up protocol droid remained cognizant, and Piett irritably rectified that situation immediately.

"Put them in binders, you and you, go check and see if any survived in the dining room," Piett ordered wearily. "And for Force's sake, put a restraining bolt on that astromech!"

The slimy little administrator of this illegal operation came up, brown eyes widening upon seeing the binders on the wrists of the Wookiee and the smuggler. "You said I could keep Chewbacca and Solo!" he exclaimed.

"You said it would be no trouble taking the Princess into custody," Firmus returned pointedly. "I have lost nearly a dozen good men and have had a _great deal_ of trouble. In light of that, I am altering our agreement - pray I do not alter it further," he added on inspiration, borrowing a line from his Commander-in-Chief.

Calrissian, looking sour, backed down, and Piett waved for the troopers to take the prisoners to his shuttle. "We'll send a trooper down to retrieve the Falcon," he informed Calrissian. "He is not to be hindered."

The obsequious son-of-a-Hutt bowed. "Of course not, Admiral," he responded smoothly, though his dislike of the whole operation was apparent to anyone with eyes to see. Piett turned on his heel and strode away without returning any pleasantries; he had no use for cowards willing to sell out their own friends.

* * *

Rested and refreshed, the Admiral stood waiting for his call to go through to his superior. Finally there was flicker, and he stood to attention - only to see a different visage than expected. "Skywalker," he greeted. "How is your father doing?"

The lad's face lit up. "He's doing very well, thank you," he returned politely. "I'll be sure and tell him you asked."

Piett nodded briskly, getting to business. "You can also tell him we have detained Princess Leia, and her...escort...Han Solo and Chewbacca, as well as two of her droids. We await his orders of how to dispose of them."

Young Luke nodded gravely. "I'll be sure and tell him as soon as possible. How long is left on your watch?"

"Six standard hours," Firmus replied, suppressing a sigh. "Also, you might want to mention that Solo and the Wookiee are formidable fighters, that we will not be able to keep them contained for long without overt violence."

"I will," Luke promised. "I shall be back in contact soon." Piett inclined his head as the transmission was ended, before relaxing with a sigh. Apparently, his Lordship's son was either unaware he outranked the Admiral, or was too ignorant to realize he should permit ease stance.

Luke headed towards the interior of the castle. Deep inside, shielded from the Emperor, Obi-Wan Kenobi was teaching Luke Skywalker to heal using the Light Side of the Force - their patient, Vader. When sneeringly asked if his conscience could handle unleashing a healed Vader on the galaxy, Kenobi had replied that he could handle that better than knowing he'd done nothing to help his former brother. Angrily dismissing this as Jedi weakness, Vader had nonetheless permitted the operations, for lack of a better word. Luke he trusted, and for Luke's sake, was willing to undergo the treatment.

So far, the treatments were going well, and together, Vader and Luke would tinker with the suit, or with the prosthetics, to accommodate Vader's newly regenerated capabilities. They had overhauled the prosthetics, almost completely rebuilding them. Kenobi, when not assisting Luke, wisely made himself scarce in the chamber prepared for him. The troopers who had accompanied them to the castle busied themselves, for the most part, setting up pranks to play on poor Luke - who secretly enjoyed every one of them. When he wasn't so focused on important matters, he would get his revenge.

Vader was deeply satisfied to hear of the detainment of the Princess and her companions, authorizing moderate force to keep the more violent prisoners contained. Luke hurried back to the comm, activating it and waiting for the Admiral to appear.

Piett had just sat down with a cup of caf when the notification came through. With a most un-Imperial groan, he got back to his feet, going in to Communications. "Skywalker," he said wearily, inclining his head.

"Admiral." Skywalker gave a small half-bow. "Father was most pleased with your report, and gives permission to use the force necessary to detain the prisoners. We anticipate returning soon, and will deal with them then."

"Thank you," Firmus said with perceptible relief. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Admiral." Luke nodded again. "Skywalker out."

Allowing himself to slump, the beleaguered admiral returned to his quarters and his caf.

* * *

Kenobi left a note in his room, upon his departure, that had both Lord Vader and Luke in a tizzy. Padmé had born twins, a boy and girl, and christened them Luke and Leia. The girl had been adopted by Bail Organa.

"I swear the next time I see him, I will finish the job I should've done twenty years ago!" Vader bellowed, outraged.

"Perhaps I can talk to her," Luke suggested. "I do not believe she finds me threatening, and aside from take her captive, we've not really done anything to her - in fact, you let her go on the Death Star..."

"Very well," Vader rumbled in agreement, Luke knew he was still scowling under his helmet.

One of the troopers, down at the end of the transport, murmured to his neighbor just loud enough to be heard, "Guess this means anything between her and a guy like me is out..."

The twin gazes of the resident Force wielders skewering him sent him skittering for the 'fresher with a hasty mumble about having had beans for dinner.


	6. Joy Cometh in the Morning

Leia and Vader had argued politics, endlessly, and driven poor Luke to distraction. He and Han would sneak off to the flight sims, generally buddying around with whatever troopers were in training, or bored junior officers, even occasionally someone higher-ranked and more relaxed than the general run-of-the-mill officer. Chewbacca had adopted the 'cub' immediately and followed them everywhere - and, after some initial shock and unease on the part of the Imperials, he was mainly accepted. (His size, strength, and reputation may have had some bearing on the extended olive branch.)

The Princess herself had accepted the truth surprisingly quickly, and relatively well. Conflict started immediately, but she and Luke got on famously, and surprisingly, she and Firmus became friends as well. (Han had a little difficulty forgiving the Admiral, but when it was most pithily pointed out to him that he'd done far more damage to the Imperials than they had done to him, he subsided.) Artoo, of course, was in Heaven, and seemed to make it his life's mission to wind everybody up farther. It was not an unusual occurrence to see him speeding down the corridors pursued by an irate bellow, snickering evilly to himself. The crew, liking the little astromech, became his willing partners in crime, hiding him from the retribution of the victims of his pranks.

To those most observant, it was also apparent that the Lady Ex herself aided and abetted him, and there were more than a few who suspected the two mechanicals had some sort of affair going on.

Official word was that the Princess Leia and General Solo had been terminated. The crew of the Executor, and the Alliance, knew better.

* * *

Darth Vader turned a conspicuously blind eye to the constant stream of highly encrypted outgoing transmissions. Palpatine was livid about the astronomical increase of the Rebel's intelligence, as the Empire suffered devastating loss after devastating loss. Time and again, he ordered a full sweep of the Executor's crew, and time and again, they all came up clean. Wherever the information leak was, the spy was covering their tracks very well. The only way to ensure that the Death Star would truly be completed, would be to travel there himself, surround it with the Navy, and send his own personal platoon of troopers to Endor to guard the shield generator.

* * *

"May the Force be with you, Han," Luke said softly, as his friend donned the stormtrooper helmet. Metal, one of the troopers, slapped Luke on the back.

"Don't worry, kid, we'll keep him safe for you," he promised jokingly.

"Watch it, buckethead," Han grumbled through his own bucket. "I'm boss now."

"Sure you are," sniggered another of the squad. "That's why we have to keep you safe."

"Enough," Vader ordered as he entered the room, and pinned the bickering troopers and Han with a glare. "Can you, or can you not, complete this mission?"

"Sure, your Lordshipnes," Solo replied easily, waving an airy hand. "It'll be like taking ale from a sleeper."

Vader snorted. "Not if you continue to talk like a smuggler fresh from Nar Shaddaa," he jabbed. "You'll blow the whole mission."

"Yeah, boss," Metal sniggered, "the point is to blow the generator, not our cover!"

Luke sighed.

* * *

"You might want to go ahead and enter the secondary transponder code," Leia advised the Admiral. "It is less than fifteen Standard minutes until the Alliance reversion - just don't activate it yet."

Piett nodded. "Thank you, Princess," he said courteously, turning and giving the necessary orders.

"They're off, sir," a lieutenant reported, watching out the vast viewport.

"May the Force be with them," Leia said aloud.

"May it be with us all," Piett muttered.

* * *

The explosion of the second Death Star was as spectacular as the first. Open comm channels allowed the troops still aboard the Executor to celebrate with their comrades below, who had pulled off a bloodless victory - at least on their side. Festive spirits reigned on the Executor, even as the rest of the Navy teetered in shock. Luke and Leia stood on either side of Darth Vader, Piett on Leia's other side, the four of them watching out the viewport as the Alliance mopped up the few remaining Navy brave enough or loyal enough to continue their stand. Luke winced as another death ricocheted through the Force. "Isn't there any way we can put a stop to this?" he asked pleadingly.

Vader, a sudden epiphany illuminating his mind, swept from the bridge without answering. Luke and Firmus looked at each other and shrugged as Leia scowled quizzically after her father's retreating back. The reason for his abrupt departure became painfully clear when a local communication went out to each ship, Vader announcing himself Emperor and ordering a cease-fire. Leia winced as her comm started buzzing. "Leia Organa," she answered.

"Leia!" Mothma sounded frantic. "What's going on?"

"Senator." Leia and Piett jumped, not having sensed Vader's return to the bridge. "I felt that this was the easiest course to ending the unnecessary bloodshed, and am more than willing to step down once a new government has been instated."

"You are? Why?" she asked, a little suspiciously.

Luke chipped in chirpily. "He's going to teach me to be a Jedi!"

Vader leveled a glare at his son. "That, young man, is still under consideration. I am going to teach you to use your inherent powers, yes, but whether or not you will become a Jedi is still debatable."

"...he just doesn't know it yet," Luke added confidingly.

* * *

 **Just one more section to go, and this will be all wrapped up. So what do you think, fluffy enough to stuff a pillow?  
**


	7. And What Happened After

"If you two are quite certain, then by all means, you may marry." Despite the obvious permission, Anakin still sounded faintly mystified. After the death of the Emperor and his own surrendering of the throne to the newly formed Republic, he had left behind the suit and mask forever - though it was still quite common for cleaning droids, making their rounds in the dark hours of the morning, to intrude on Luke and Anakin tinkering with the prosthetic arms and legs. It was during these unhealthily late visits that Luke had told his father all about Han, working Anakin around to tolerance and even an aggravated friendship towards the impudent smuggler. Even so, Anakin could not figure out why his daughter would want to marry the scoundrel, but as Luke pointed out, Han was willing to do a lot for Her Worship, so Anakin didn't object. If the two were convinced they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, he wouldn't stand in their way.

"Thank you, Father." Leia hugged him tightly, incandescent with joy. She never had called him Daddy - that endearment belonged to the deceased Bail Organa - but had soon enough accepted him as Father. Anakin was content with that.

Han nodded, unusually humble, as his father-in-law-to-be hugged his betrothed. "Thank you, sir," he said sincerely.

Anakin grinned, not altogether mildly. "Think nothing of it," he said affably. "It'll be the state event of the year, I daresay if you're willing to be in the spotlight for that, you can have her." Leia swatted him as Han gulped and Luke burst out laughing aloud.

* * *

Luke, Metal, Rogue Squadron, and a handful of the other troopers who hung around with Han planned his bachelor party. Anakin, to everyone's relief, tactfully didn't show. CoruSec showed up four times on noise complaints before giving up - fines and citations had been handed out along with the party favors, everyone promised to pay up, and went right back to their shindig. Chewbacca was the only one who escaped, having left the party early. The hangovers the next morning attested to the success of the party - Luke was the only one functioning.

Leia scowled, scrolling angrily along the page of wedding dresses. "So you decided to help my future husband prove his maturity by getting him so drunk he didn't wake up until well after noon and then wasn't good for anything?" she demanded of her brother.

Luke, altogether unrepentant, smirked and pointed to one of the images on her screen. "How about that one? You'd look ravishing."

"You're changing the subject," Leia grumbled, going to the page connected to the image and reading the description and specs.

"It's tradition," Luke responded absently, scrolling down the page to read further.

Leia's scowl deepened. "And that makes it alright?" she asked pointedly, shoving her twin's hand away to move the page back up.

Anakin, perusing the news, peered up at his offspring sitting across the room, wearing a small smirk.

* * *

As predicted, the wedding of Leia Organa Skywalker to Han Solo was The Event of the year, and if it were not for the re-forming of the Republic, would've been the Event of the decade. Celebrated daughter of Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, and adopted by Bail Organa, anyone older than forty wanted to be there, and all the women below thirty did too - most of the men, as well. It was one of the happiest moments of Anakin's life, walking down the aisle beside his daughter and giving her away.

The official reception only lasted about four hours, then the media and extraneous guests were diplomatically shooed off. That was, as Wes remarked, when the real fun started. If the bachelor party had been boisterous, it had nothing on the private reception - CoruSec, capitulating immediately, only showed a couple of times, and that was to gatecrash. Luke, the designated driver, vanished halfway through the night with Admiral Piett's eldest daughter, and it was Anakin who eventually drove the newlyweds to their apartment for the night - a fact that gave him a great deal of private amusement.

* * *

A year and a half later, Luke Skywalker married Irelda Piett in a small, quiet ceremony, only for their closest friends and family. A modest press release announced the affair, but date, time, and location were not released. The media were left to make what they could of the marriage of the son and daughter of the Navy's former Commander-in-Chief and current Grand Admiral without details. Luke, wisely, denied his friends the glee of a bachelor's party (earning himself a few extremely tart comments from his sister.) It was an understated, elegant affair, with Owen and Beru Lars in attendance, and a gift sent from one Obi-Wan Kenobi. At the end, Luke was more than capable of driving himself and his new bride to their apartment, not far from the refurbished and renovated Jedi Temple.

* * *

"Well, Padmé, I've seen both our children married, now." Anakin sank onto his couch, tilting his head back and letting his eyes drift shut. "Seems so empty here, now," he murmured. "It'll be odd, without Luke leaving his socks around and making a new pot of caf whenever we finish one, or Leia dropping by - with or without that Solo in tow - every day for lunch or dinner. She's pregnant now, you know - I sensed it yesterday, when we danced at Luke's wedding. I don't know if she knows yet, even. Won't be long before we have grandchildren." He sighed, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Do you know, I didn't know what to get them? Either of them. Threepio helped me choose something for Leia, but Artoo had to pick out Luke's present. Sad, isn't it." He fell silent, relaxed and at peace, softly relishing the listening silence of the apartment. "I miss you, Angel," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard. "You would've known just what to get them."

He didn't know how long he sat there, before the door opened and Firmus Piett entered. "There you are. Luke said you'd be flaked out, moping," he observed dispassionately, setting a bottle down on the kitchen table. Anakin slit one eye open, peering at his old friend.

"How'd you get past security?" he grumbled.

Firmus grinned a little, retrieving a pair of glasses from the cabinet. "Luke gave me the password." Pouring them both a drink, he crossed into the living room and sat on the couch beside his former commander. Anakin, with a groan born of old age and aches, sat up and accepted the proffered glass.

"He sent you to check on me?" he grunted.

"He did." Firmus raised his glass. "Here's to growing older and spoiling the grands."

"Cheers." Anakin clinked his glass against Piett's and they both drank.

* * *

 **Here we are, folks, the end. Should I do an epilogue about the grandyounglings?**


	8. Epilogue

**Rex; What's so shocking about Luke marrying his father's best friend's daughter? Because I didn't keep to canon?**

* * *

Anakin stared down at his perfect little granddaughter, the spitting image of her mother and grandmother. A beaming Leia had just informed him that the newest of the Skywalker dynasty bore her grandmother's name, too, Amidala Breha Solo. Blinking sleepily, the baby stared back up at him before yawning and jamming her tiny fist into her mouth, snuggling down and half-way falling asleep. Anakin barely registered Han standing less than a meter away, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes narrowed just slightly, gaze sharp as a lightwhip as he watched the former Sith Lord hold his newborn infant.

"She's an angel," Anakin whispered, which helped the new father relax slightly. The softly-burbling astromech was the only one present who truly understood what Anakin meant, though.

* * *

"Amidala Breha Solo, leave your cousin alone this _instant_!" The strident voice that had served the Princess Leia so well on chaotic mercy missions, in chaotic Senate sessions, and in chaotic Command Centers throughout her illustrious career continued to serve her well as a mother. Luke, Han, and Anakin all exchanged smirks as Irelda and Leia rushed over to the fighting younglings. Irelda swept her son up, checked him for injuries, and shook her head at his crying.

"Alright, what happened?" she asked, sounding resigned. Maximilian Skywalker stuck his fingers in his mouth, pouting, and pinned a wet glare on his slightly older cousin - who was more than living up to her mother's fearsome reputation.

"Sh' p'll'd m' 'air," he accused, lip poking out.

"Don't suck on your hand, you're too old for that," Irelda said with a sigh, pulling her son's fist from his mouth and wiping it on a convenient napkin. " _Why_ did she pull your hair?" What she did not add aloud, eying her son's short cut, was how had the girl gotten _hold_ of his hair in the first place.

Amidala finally piped up. "He called the Falcon a hodgepodge of junk!"

Two accusing glares - and one of outrage, somewhat closer - pinned on Anakin, who held up his hands in defense. Luke buried his nose in his drink, struggling not to laugh. "I never said it was a bad thing!" Anakin defended himself. "Threepio's made of spare parts from a junk shop, too!"

"That's no kind of comparison!" Han spluttered, growing more indignant by the minute.

"He is fully functional," Anakin said meekly. "That's all I meant."

"Luke!" Leia interrupted again, tone pointed as a blade. The young Jedi fumbled the brownie he had been taking the opportunity to swipe, caught it, and put both hands behind his back, face guiltier than that of either child.

* * *

"Happy birthday, son." The older man smiled fondly as the curly-haired boy ripped the ornate flimsiplast off the box and squealed.

"Lady!" Hugging the tiny model of the SSD in one arm, little Owen ran forward and gave his benefactor's knees a tight hug. "Thanks, Grampa!"

Firmus crouched down with a couple of pops to look his adored grandson in the eye. "You're quite welcome, Owen," he murmured. "But that's not all - your ship is actually made from bits and pieces of the real Lady Ex."

" _Wizard!_ " Owen started bouncing in excitement.

* * *

Leia and Han beamed with pride as Amidala gave her acceptance speech, following her election as Senator for Coruscant. Two days later, the Solos attended a party celebrating the Knighting of Maximilian Skywalker, and Commander Owen Skywalker came home from his commission aboard the _Executor II_ to attend and extend congratulations. Diminutive Master Yoda, once again instructor of the younglings at the Temple (when he wasn't...er, meditating,) stood by proudly as Grand Master Luke Skywalker Knighted his son. It had taken Max a little longer than many Padawans, but at last, he had been deemed ready and passed the trials.

It was also as good an excuse as any to bring the lovely and charming Lieutenant Tetra to meet his family, too.

* * *

 **Here we are, folks, the end of the end. :) Thanks for staying with me so long!**


End file.
